#might as well not let it go to waste

[neon-kazoo]

A Gambit

[CW: threats, blood, knife violence, captivity]

(Hero POV)

There was a knife at my throat, which was pretty expected honestly.

I mean, I didn’t exactly expect to sneak into public enemy number one’s private base and be greeted with warm milk and cookies. Sure, being held at knifepoint wasn’t ideal, but stakes were high enough that I was running out of options.

This was a risk I was willing to take.

I slowly raised my open hands. Surrender: the logical course of action when one is caught effectively off guard deep in unfamiliar territory.

“Don’t move and I might consider letting you live another second,” was whispered harshly in my ear, and I heeded the command disguised as a suggestion. The slow and controlled rise and fall of my chest was the only movement I allowed my body to make as my captor grabbed a hold of one lifted hand and pulled it behind my back, my arm folding painfully to provide the physical leverage the knife against my neck could not. Undoubtedly uncomfortable, but I tried not to worry about anything more than my main objective: staying alive.

“Grab your weapon slowly. Drop it. Kick it out of reach,” he ordered concisely.

I obediently unclipped the large knife sheathed on my belt, then dropped it to the floor and kicked it away.

Apparently, the distance the knife skittered was not satisfactory because I was subsequently yanked backwards a few more feet until we stopped and my shoulders were once again flush with the collarbones of the chest behind me.

“Give me one reason I shouldn’t slit your throat right now. Tell me what you’re doing here,” I was questioned, and thus the careful game begun.

It was much too early to show all my cards, but I had to say something. While it was a decently good sign that I wasn’t killed the second I was discovered, I certainly wasn’t going to push my luck by not providing an answer.

“I need something. You have it,” I answered simply, forcing the words out as strongly as I could and hoping to buy myself a ticket to a second location with a less immediate threat of death.

The hallway in which we currently stood seemed to be closing in on its self, the shadows threatening to swallow me the second the knife would pierce my skin and end my life. I needed to get out of here.

I needed to survive.

I didn’t lie per se, but I was certainly aiming for a misleading omission with my statements. I felt like a shady salesman pitching a hook, except this salesman’s life depending on this customer’s purchase.

“Yeah? And what might that be?” The voice sounded deceptively interested, but it came from dangerously close to my ear.

And that was my cue to shut up.

“Ok. We can do it this way.”

My knees were kicked out from behind, and I went slamming into the floor. My tongue caught between my teeth on the way down, and metallic blood soon found its way across my taste buds. Hands ran across my clothes and into my pockets, methodically stripping me of my tools and supplies. My boots were removed and their knives tossed across the room. Pressure on my shoulder kept me down, but on a positive note, there was no longer a blade biting against my skin.

I focused on the iron taste and taking steady and clear breaths as the man above me worked. A renewed grip locked both arms behind my back and I was hauled onto my feet again. An aggressive push had me starting to walk, my sock-clad feet padding against and periodically tripping on the concrete toward a door settled into the far wall.

I was harshly marched down two more halls and through a smaller room, becoming more and more disconcerted that my captor wasn’t bothering to hide the layout of the base as we walked.

We eventually reached a room that was clearly equipped to handle prisoners. It was stocked with tools and restraints, which my captor made quick work of using to secure me. The room accomplished the intimidating vibe of a concrete box with bright-in-one-spot-but-dark-in-all-others fluorescent lighting, complete with chains along the wall and a metal chair bolted to the floor in the center.

Once I was settled into the aforementioned chair, I realized it faced away from the only door in the room, leaving a view of only a blood spattered wall.

This was certainly a second location. Mission accomplished, sort of.

I still did not speak, what was there to say, really? Begging for my freedom would be pointless, and I refused to show unnecessary weakness of any kind. I was here for a reason after all, I could only hope prayer and patience would be enough to get me through this ordeal.

My captor paced at my back, his footfalls loud as he allowed his shoes to scuff roughly on the concrete floor. They came to a stop.

“Let’s get to know each other, shall we?” He stepped in front of me and smiled wide, and suddenly I was considering the merits of spontaneously dropping dead right there in that chair.

“You see, I don’t take this kind of thing lightly,” he started, “How did you know to come here? Were you planning to steal what you needed, or is this some kind of delusional attempt at a business deal?” He continued, but my lips remained sealed, not that he could tell.

He seemed to realize this too, because he quickly ripped off every piece of clothing that covered my face, leaving it bare to be read and identified.

“Hero, how cute.”

Now he was interested.

His eyes traced the scar that ran from the corner of my nose up to my cheekbone. That’s what gave me away, he would know, because he’s the one who gave it to me. Not to suggest that us crossing paths was a regular occurrence, quite the opposite in fact. I had pledged to avoid the man after our unfortunate encounter, and it helped that I wasn’t much of a front-line fighter to begin with. I preferred sidelines and shadows, subtle work. And I rarely interfered in the big leagues. I was content to not make any powerful enemies, but unfortunately, circumstances change.

“You’re not getting what you came for,” Maybe I am, “so what’s the harm in giving it up?” He asked sweetly, nothing but innocence in his eyes as he stepped closer.

“Don’t think I’ll be asking nicely again,”he followed, and that- that possessive twinkle in his eyes. That was what I was banking on. This was going to work.

He circled me like a shark, slow and deliberate, but never reaching to fill his hands with a tool or a weapon. His relaxed demeanor put me on edge nonetheless. He had nothing to worry about. Capturing me was all business, now this was all play.

Silence continued to be my preferred strategy.

“Still quiet huh? Don’t worry, I’m really good at the quiet game,” he whispered the last part from behind me eerily, before walking away and shutting the door with a loud metal slam and leaving me alone. Maybe this wasn’t my best idea, but it was a little late for second thoughts.

By the time he returned, I had already begun to preemptively associate the sound of the door and heavy footsteps with the sound of my doom. He appeared in front of me much too soon, empty handed with a justifiable air of confidence.

My heart started to race when Villain strutted over to a roll of plastic propped against the wall to my left. Slowly, he kicked it over to the center of the room where I sat in the chair, and then knelt to the ground to roll it out around me. He produced a knife I didn’t know he had been carrying, different from the one that had been held at my throat, previously concealed somewhere in the black cargo pants that covered over the ankle of his black combat boots. He sliced the plastic laid around me into a square perimeter about six feet on each side.

My mind screamed that I needed to change tactics, admit something or be admitted to an early grave. But revealing that I intended to use the most powerful man in the game was not going to work in my favor. What choice did I really have though, be a toy or admit to toying?

Villain stood now. He gave me little more than a glance before starting to walk past me on my left side, presumably towards the door again or maybe other equipment. Unfortunately that guess did not take into account his lighting-like speed.

He turned, and before I knew it a knife was stabbed straight through my hand. I blinked in disbelief at the metal jutting an inch and a half out the palm of my hand, blood starting to well up around it and drip down to the tip of the blade before falling to hit the plastic.

Maybe I was wrong. Maybe this wasn’t better. Maybe this was as certain a death as I was already guaranteed.

Too late to turn back now.

The pain took about a full three seconds to register. I was unprepared for the strike, quick as a viper sinking its teeth into its prey. I choked on my shock, mouth opening but no sound coming out.

Millan seized the opportunity, shoving a ball of fabric into my gaping mouth with forceful fingers.

“You don’t wanna talk? Don’t talk. I prefer it this way anyway,” he spoke, and my mistake became crystal clear.

Salvage. Games. He wants to play games.

His hand returned to the knife he had left skewered through my hand. His fingers wrapped around the hilt and my thoughts ran a thousand miles per minute, searching for something, anything, I could use as an opening move.

I was invited to the table, now I just had to figure out how to play.

The blade slipped easily back out of my flesh. It had missed bone, angled perfectly in the direction of my fingers.

I had to act now, before that blade found a new home in which to bury itself, presumably in a much more damaging location.

I coughed and spit to try and loosen the scrap in my mouth as I attempted to push it out with my tongue. I was making progress, but a hand was heading for my face again to try and re-secure the gag. Running out of time, I forced precious few syllables past the fabric that crudely hindered my speech.

“Ah-so-shee-a-shun.”

The hand reached its destination, but surprisingly opted to remove the obstacle from my mouth and toss it in a soggy heap to the floor.

“What was that?”

“The Association. I know something.”

I made a sour face in an attempt to resalivate my mouth and rid it of the awful cottony feel and taste.

“I have something on The Hero Association.”

“Hero, you do not waste a breath. I knew there was something I liked about you.” That creepy smiled returned, coupled with the glint in the eyes as the knife was wiped off on the knee of his pants. He crouched to a squat in front of me.

“I don’t suppose you’re in a particularly generous and sharing mood?” He cocked his head, studying my face as if seeing it for the first time.

“In your dreams. Sharing is caring, and I could not give less of a fuck about you.” I watched his face as he reacted to my words and knew by the way he lit up that I had picked the right path.

Never doubted it for a second.

“So why bring it up?”

“Figured it might save me a stab wound or two.”

“Or three or four,” he conceded, and I allowed a small smile to stretch my lips.

“Probably five.” He smiled back. “At least.”

The air in the room was lighter, and this exchange was seeming more and more like a tentative opportunity and less and less like certain doom. Blood still dripped from my hand, but I didn’t spare it another glance. I relaxed in my binds, and prepared for my next move.

[princeloww]

we're all going to die eventually why not just be weird about david tennant

[hoodiehorizon]

@rufwooff Missing panel: Raph trying to get Donnie to spit out the tail like a dog owner trying to get their dog to drop something (and I mean geckos do eat their own tails and shedded skin)

meme under cut

Donnie @ Leo after this

[mangofanarts]

I heard he got assigned Rarity

[brodorokihousuke]

drinking wine while playing Ace Attorney Investigations like some sort of method acting freak

[errorwarblesrr]

"You'll come with me, won't you?"

[taz-clark]

there's an dinosaur MMO i like playing (Path of Titans) and with most games like that, the global in-game chat gets pretty fucking toxic.

so i've been running a lil experiment the last two weeks whenever i play.

there are ways within the game that you can help other players. for sure you can ignore those and just go out and fight/kill everyone you come across, killing other players is a major factor of the game and one im not trying to stop. the combat is fun. But i've been purposefully going out of my way to help ppl. most times, its at a loss to myself, as the best way to help is to let other players kill me. this gives them a reward which helps in the long run.

it took a few days for ppl to start catching on that i was indeed there to help and not lead them into a trap. a week and i had ppl actively seeking me out whenever i log in, politely asking if i could help them.

now, a little over two weeks later, the trend of kindness i've been streaming ahead with has caught on. there are now others doing the same as me. offering up themselves to help ppl, encouraging fellow players. dozens of ppl will now speak up to confirm that I am indeed there to help whenever a player has doubts about my intentions. I see ppl having friendly conversations in chat instead of just swearing at each other. I can now go to some of the most "asshole" players that everyone knows for being ruthless and just peacefully hang out with them.

the server as a whole is just much nicer.

are there still toxic ppl? for sure. but ppl are just as willing to show each other kindness as they are to knock each other down.

take from this what you will. but its shown me that my efforts arent a waste. that kindness is not a waste of time.

[sirmanmister]

Real life has been kicking my ass lately so you know what that means!

“People don’t come out of that place alive.”

“I can imagine.”

“You’re going to kill him.”

Two soldiers stood on the end of a vertibird catwalk, watching the vehicle beside them warm up. One dragged on a cigarette and narrowed their eyes at the other through the smoke.

“I ain’t gonna kill him, Rhys,” Damien said. “He volunteered to come with me.”

“Because it’s his duty to babysit you,” Rhys shot back. “Danse is a good man, but he’s an even better leader, which means he isn’t going to let any member of his squad head into the Glowing Sea by themselves. He’s the type of man to die for something he believes in, and he believes in the Brotherhood. Not you.”

Rhys gave Damien a long, withering look, nostrils flaring like the very sight of Damien in an orange flight suit enraged him.

“Think about what it is you really want in there,” Rhys said carefully. “And then think about it again and decide if it's worth the life of a good man.”

Damien’s slight irritation at Rhys’ continued badgering rose abruptly into something far more pronounced. Damien could handle not being liked, but Rhys was toeing a very delicate line.

Damien’s intentions behind joining the Brotherhood were no secret, and Rhys was one of the few that knew more about them than anybody else. He’d seen Damien at the police station, biting back tears when they couldn’t give him any help with Shaun; he’d been in the room when Damien had met with Danse and Maxson and exchanged information on the institute for a place within their ranks. Rhys had known the stakes from the start.

“You’ve got a problem with the way things are, you can take it up with Danse,” Damien said through grit teeth. “I’m going in there with, or without his company.”

“You’ve got a deathwish.”

“Wanna join me?”

Rhys scoffed incredulously and gave Damien a pitying look. With a shake of his head, Rhys turned and marched back down the catwalk.

[guiltyidealist]

> 👁👄👁

> fucked up (but pretty goddamn)

> the ̵m̷ę̶å̸t̷ ̵p̵į̷ł̶ë̶ ̸-- raw in the back (lmao), cooked at the front door

> my pet bnuuy (: oh bnuuy we're really in it now..

sad to report he despawned when I left the region ):

> interior design (pictured: "I CAN Do This" Corridor, fire supplies, desk and storage space, çåttâïl čhāįr)

> rate my setup 😎💅

[i-can-even-burn-salad]

Happy STS Elli!

What inspires you to write? Are there things that you know that you can get inspiration from or does it just come randomly?

Happy STS!

For me, inspiration doesn't mean "to write".

There are, and always have been, a lot of stories floating around in my mind - ideas, scenes, vibes, outlines. I get inspiration from literally everywhere, from talking to my friends, and video games, and scrolling past images or prompts, and reading books, and spending too much time on reddit, and…

Many remain daydreams, or character backstories, eventually lost to time.

Now for actually being able to sit my ass down and get words on the page? I don't know. It comes and goes as it pleases. Having a beehive where a brain should be does NOT help, let me tell you that.

I just. Can't focus on shit lately. Can barely make it through a chapter when reading. Every day is just suddenly over, and I got nothing done, and I am so tired. I have a completely outlined short thing I have been trying to write since Nov, and it's like pulling teeth.

I could do with several months off work while everyone leaves me the fuck alone. How would that be.

[medicinemane]

Sometimes I feel like I'm going crazy

You have... very very very very very very very very smart people you know, and they're say something that not only isn't true, but literally is as opposite of the truth as it's possible to be... and you'll... gently inform them "hey, it's actually a bit more like this" and then they just kinda... go on saying literally the exact same thing

I'm not sure if it's just that... I often feel like I must be very bad at communicating, or people must just not notice/ignore a lot of what I say, but... I don't know

Like dearest friend, you've said something as absurd as... I don't know, it's hard to say without saying it, but honest to god about as absurd as saying the United States was a part of the USSR, that level of completely getting it backwards

...and it just doesn't seem to matter when I try to explain it... I legit don't even know if you read what I said

Really end up feeling like I'm going nuts sometimes

[sherlock-is-ace]

.

[winged-wolf-s-collection-of-arts]

thinking more thoughts!!

Kiley time-

I uh- kind of poured all my chaotic energy into her, and separated her from the rest of the npc cast? Otherwise the dialogue would get totally fucked, and my ‘I need to hit this story with a drama nuke’ desire would cause trouble.

So she’s uhhh off on her adventure of a different genre. (But stuff she does Will affect things... dun dun dunnnn) but dude Wow she would be so irritated by Jun. Good thing we’re going to Sanctuary to leave them and take Preston.... OR THAT IS WHAT I WOULD SAY if she didn’t want to be anywhere near the vault!! We’re going somewhere else, babeyyyyy! Maybe talking with him and Murphy would bring some understanding (is what I would say if I were doing big character development in the beginning but we’re not!!) Shoving my desire for conflict into this.

[thebadtimewolf]

hey

do yall know any genuine rose tyler stans that are actually upset about how s1 rose was treated as an equal AND a love interest but as soon as s2-s4 rose was treated more as a equal BECAUSE of her being pideonholed as only a 'i can do things too! see!' archetype of love interests that it took two other characters to be treated as an actual equal? like why did ten thru donna said that he needs an equal and that what the dr needs an equal??

rose was already an equal in season 1. its established bts that rose was an equal to ninth doctor? but now why didn't that sentiment continued on with ten? what happened?

like martha is treated like an actual equal because the dr in the past have always hated themselves, reflected back at them, but still shared the joy and comradarie during a joint adventure with said version of self. like even the time lord victorious two parter book - 8 was flirting and 10 flirted back but at the end of the day - both of em can carry themselves without the arrival of the other, leaving the eyerolling and mild disgust or disinterest aspect to ninth dr when he shared a room with them. like the dr not wanting to "date" martha even though he literally in text trying real hard to pull the wool in both ur qnd his own eyes is essentially him trying not to fuck himself.

donna is - in an almost wish-fufilled in what the dr missed from the master - considered an equal preestablished since season 3 guest appeared and fully in season 4. shes seen as a pea in the pod like the dr master rani and romana - keeping up with that specific lot of em without going thru the 'but im better than you' alien egoist rhetoric that the time lords fall to in times of upper handedness. she can manipulate she talk fast she tech-savvy yet people-grounded BUT she makes sure the respect isnt temporary and doesnt lord it over people because everyone is great and without that person, the whole system can fall apart.

because so far, it doesnt feel that way. like are yall not mad that tenth doctor gave rose up?

after seasons of build up and getting shot and everything? the funky alien eldritch being in a mask of an earth lookin boy that had a chance to man up and show feelings when the opportunity is very in your face given to him to do so in a space where he could do so and — he just gave her up? all that moping and whining and when given what he wanted, he just went: no. here. i need an equal and i have donna so im giving you what i TEN think you want as an equal in me and thats him. BUT NINEROSE ARE EQUALS SHE NEVER SAID SHE WANTED HIM HUMAN BUT RATHER HIMSELF AS HE IS.

its like fridging rose but worse. in s2-4 you made her in memory of someone else that ALWAYS treated her as an equal instead of actually continuing on with that with the next face. death wouldve been more forgiving and thats not a great thing to come to a conclusion to. The one that really treated you as both a love interest AND equal is dead, and now you're married to the discarded imitation of the one that only typecasted you as a love interest.

tentoo should be mad abt this too but this aint about him, this is about yall and the rose tyler connundrum.

i wouldve settled for her having the hand - settling for the hand if that hand turned into ninth doctor (like full on christopher eccleston doing donna impression everything) instead of what we got - which was dust. it made more sense that way. because then the dialogue narrative - the doctor's excuse - wouldve been more well recieved. Does it need saying would have more weight if Eccleston played a NineToo whispered i love you because you know it was well meant. Genuine. Its coming from someone that always treated you as an equal and also getting that i love you and not just - oh the human i love. i miss them not because i treated them on equal terms, its strictly because i only love them - no equality at all

like yeah chris wasnt going to return but hes a movie actor - hes used to green screen. he couldve sent a video message in a leather jacket and let it be done. like we couldve had nine saying i love you to rose on doomsday like do you get what im trying to say like. like tooth and claw if it was nine and rose both wouldve been like 'oh look at that a werewolf transformation!' And not what. we got. LIKE DO YOU SEE WHAT I MEAN

[nerdie-faerie]

Me, lying in bed this morning: why am I even awake right now? There's no point in going to class, it's going to be such a waste of time and I'm going to learn nothing anyway

Me, after going to class anyway only for my teacher to not be there: oh it's not even on what the fuck